“I’ve got most of my pack demanding your blood.” Adam could be blunt when he wanted. Usually, for the shock value. He waited for the Hunter to close the distance, leaving a bit of space between him and the bars. Chase gave him points for remembering. It seemed to take bitten wolven a while to learn to rely on their sense of smell before grabbing and touching things. Especially, shiny silver things.
“Seems you had it. Why go through all this?” He waved around at his surroundings. “I’m the Hunter. You’re the werewolves. Why didn’t you end it already?”
The thump of the door seemed an answer in itself. The scents of the other males preceded them, causing Chase to adjust his stance so that he stood in front of the door to the cage. In this case the silver bars did as much to keep the others out as they did to keep Carter Hunter inside and out of trouble. Mark clattered down the stairs, angry, unseeing his Alpha shift quietly to the side to observe.
“Move outta the way, Chase.” Anger, grief, and the exhaustion of sitting at his mate’s side fueled Mark’s attitude. He shrugged and stepped aside, letting the kid find out for himself that the door was locked with no key in sight. He swung around. “Fine. Open it and let me at him.” When Chase failed to move, Mark rushed him. The metal clanged at the force of two full grown wolven males slamming into it. The skin on Chase’s exposed arm brushed against the metal, making him tense against the stinging burn. His anger heated up, but instead of hitting back, he wrapped his arms around his attacker and moved away from the bars. Mark was a good kid. He’d defend his own, but he wasn’t a cold blooded killer. It was a quality he liked about the younger wolven.
Chase grunted when an unexpected punch landed hard on his kidney and hung on. Several punches later, Mark sagged. His grief stricken face settled into a hard mask and he jerked himself loose and stalked to the cage. “Why?” He shook his head, yellow blond hair flopping carelessly. “What did we ever do to you?” Mark rushed the cage, fists banging against the metal twice before he gripped the bars in his hands. “You sorry son of a bitch. What did my wife ever do to you?”
It was Mack who intervened. Chase let him. The kid packed a hell of a punch when he wanted to and his kidney throbbed from the impact. Towering over the kid, the human gently eased Mark’s burning skin away from the toxic metal. “Mark. Son, you’re not doing Bailey or Justin any good hurting yourself or throwing blame at the first target.” The giant human’s calm murmurs got through where Chase’s let-it-all-out technique had not.
They got as far as the twins at the foot of the stairs when Mark turned back around, “Who says he didn’t do it? I don’t see him defending himself.” He faced Brandon. “You said he admitted to the killing.”
“He didn’t kill Rick.” Bradley, for a change looked very much like his leaner twin. They were bookends at the foot of the stairwell. Silver shot just the day before yesterday, if not for fairy intervention, Bradley would be dead. As it were, he looked haggard and ill. Wolven metabolism would have cannibalized his extra mass to aid in healing. His wounds would be raw, even with fairy healing. Stopping briefly to touch Mark’s shoulder, he looked down, meeting his younger packbrother’s pain. Bradley shook his head. “He didn’t do it, Mark.”
Behind him, the blond male stared as he made his way to the cage. “How do you know?”
Chapter Twenty Five
Bradley stared at the newly Changed male in front of him. He barely heard Mark’s question but he understood the need infused in it. Mark and Rick had been as close as littermates. Far closer than he and his twin had ever been. Those two had fought with and for each other from the day Garrick dragged Rick home and tossed him into the pack. If it would heal the loss, Bradley would rip the Hunter’s throat out himself. But it wouldn’t. Rick was still dead, and the gaping hole he sensed in Mark would always be there. “I just know.” He’d known, because missiles and sniper rifles felt beneath this one. A coward’s way to kill when he’d saw the honor inside this one.
Still, Bradley hadn’t wanted to make the stand until Chase’s female made such a stink about the Hunter’s innocence. A Hunter was like a rabid dog, dangerous until you put it down. Personally, he didn’t think that biting him would make a difference. Now, they didn’t just have a badass psychic Hunter after them. They had a badass werewolf Hunter on their hands. Standing in front of the cage, he looked at the man, male, inside. The designation man implied a state of humanity. They weren’t human, none of them. Not even Mack was completely human anymore. Or as human as any psychic could be. Inside the cage, the same tired pain looked back at him in familiar brown eyes.
“You look the same.” Mark’s comment made Bradley smile. Trust the lamebrain to point out what he didn’t want noticed. He looked back, raised an eyebrow at Brandon’s warning grip on the back of the kid’s neck, and laughed. His twin looked ready to rip open the Hunter’s body and play in the remains.
“You think?” Bradley shook his head at the unreality of the situation. Of keeping the crap you should have unloaded, locked up in the secret places. Of letting Garrick’s childhood taunts of how the others would hate him if they found out, rule his actions. One would think that twenty years of being dead would loosen the asshole’s hold on him. Bradley sent a steady dark look at his packbrother with enough menace to jumpstart the goofball’s sense of self-preservation.
“Uh. I think I need to check on Bailey.” Mark shrugged off the hand and slipped up the stairs. Probably, under the correct impression that he’d pushed his luck just a bit too far.
Bradley looked back at the silent male in front of him, knowing, but not really caring how uncomfortable he had to be. Naked and on display in a silver cage. They’d all been there before at one time or another. He felt the presence, more than scented or heard, of his twin at his back. Brandon’s expectation, rather than the Hunter’s, prompted Bradley to speak. “Hello big brother. Long time, no see.” He derived a perverse satisfaction from the shock, then denial on the Hunter’s face. Grinding his jaw shut, he stared, looking for something in both Bradley and Brandon.
Behind him, his twin chuckled. “I feel kind of dense that I didn’t see it before. You forgot to tell me about that.”
Bradley shrugged. “You didn’t ask the right question.”
His brother’s body was warm against his back. Brandon’s breath blew in his ear, but comforting, not possessive or wrong. If their positions had been reversed, Brandon would have him by the throat. But Bradley didn’t have the hang-ups his twin did. He had a whole different set of relationship issues. “You weren’t ready for me to ask the question.” He tensed slightly as Brandon wrapped an arm around his shoulder, then forced himself to relax. His brother deserved whatever game he wanted to play. The pressure increased against his back as Brandon peered through the bars. “So…Carter is it?” Brandon’s trailing touch slid over his shoulder as he eased around the bars, peering inside much as humans do at a zoo exhibit. “I hope you have a backup career choice.”
The caged werewolf inside growled, instinctively lowering his head as Brandon trailed a finger along the silver bars. The faint scent of silver and flesh danced in the air, a tease for the occupant’s new senses. A faint red glow started behind the Hunter’s eyes, his already lethal body, moved with quick grace, following Brandon’s lead. He stopped, predictably in front of his Alpha. He leaned his head down, face pressed into the space, hands gripping the sides until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the beast he wanted to tease. “Because it’s gonna suck when the other Hunters find out you’re one of the monsters.” Brandon pulled back with lazy ease before Carter could grab him. The Hunter hit the bars and backed up.
“Enough.” Adam’s quiet voice stopped the game. Bradley closed his eyes, turning his head away as Brandon turned and glided up the stairs without a backward glance. Once again, gilt hit Bradley’s stomach like a load of bricks. Just when he thought his twin was sane, normal, and getting over the past, Brandon had to pull a stunt like this to prove that Garrick had fucked him up so
badly that only Karen kept him sane.
* * * *
Chase watched the display with mild amusement as Brandon played the Hunter’s new senses, driving home the fact of his new existence. He didn’t blame the kid. They were in cramped quarters, grieving and angry. The Hunter was the only new toy to play with. Bradley retreated to the stairs, picking up a pile of clothing to shove through the bars.
“Hey, aren’t those mine?” Chase peered at the pile of leather and fabric that Carter gingerly bent to examine.
“Yeah.” Bradley’s grin was pure evil. “Brandon heard you cleared out his stash at his place, so he figured this being your hidey-hole, you could share with the new guy.”
“But those are my pants!” Brand new, custom made, never worn jeans cut leather pants.
“And he’s about your size.” Bradley gloated, rubbing salt into the wound. “It was pretty charitable of your mate to offer.”
“I’m with him.” Carter held up the pants. “You want me to wear another guys clothes, without even underwear to go between me and the fabric?”
Chase narrowed his eyes and glanced at Adam. “I could kill him boss. Mark would be happy. Hell, Tamara would be breaking out the pom-poms. Besides, he wouldn’t have to wear my pants.” He wondered if he could still claim the cookie bounty on the Hunter since they’d decided Carter was innocent of the majority of the killings here. “Plus…” Adam shook his head. Double damn. Since Bradley wasn’t in on the Cookie Bounty, Chase kept his mouth shut about the deal. “Fine. Keep the duds.” Chase offered the rest of his milkshake to Adam and left the room with a wave. “Get dressed so we can ream the bastard who killed Rick.”
* * * *
Carter pulled the leather pants and t-shirt on. He didn’t’ understand these creatures. One moment they were going to kill him, next the one with hair down to his ass was offering tips and waiting to sign him onto the team. Tucking the shirt into the waistband, he was a bit surprised at the clink of a metal key in the lock as the big Nordic looking werewolf opened the cage door.
“Aren’t you afraid the big bad Hunter is going to get you?” Carter sneered as he moved out of the cage. He didn’t count on the man’s sheer speed and strength slamming him back against the frame. Adam Weis’s ice blue eyes bored into him. Nose to nose, Carter saw that his irises and pupils were ringed in a darker blue, giving him the look of an Alaskan Husky. He’d learned once just why the dogs were bred to pull sleds for humans. Smart, strong, and unbelievably aggressive, the creatures were just one step away from wolves on the evolutionary ladder.
“Remember, the huntsman forfeited his life for his failure. Make no mistake, son. This is my territory and I will not tolerate the abuse of those under my protection.” While before, the man had blended into the surroundings, letting other’s take the lead, now Weis’s sheer presence of personality demanded respect. He was the supreme authority that made a part of Carter want to acknowledge him in a primal way. Alpha wolf.
Carter steadied his racing heart, his eyes shifted off the werewolf’s, but he gave himself points for not flinching or cowing down. “You’re mistaken. The huntsman killed the big bad wolf, Weis.”
“No. The evil queen in Snow White killed the huntsman. The woodsman killed the big bad wolf, freeing Little Red’s grandma.” The werewolf gave a tired shake of his head, his hand falling away from Carter’s shirt with a pat. “I’ve got seven kids, four grandchildren and counting. If there’s one thing I know, it’s my fairy tales.” A ghost of pain flitted through his eyes, moving something inside Carter that he didn’t think he would think he’d feel for the monsters. The one that had been killed would have been one of Weis’s seven children. He thought the werewolf was pretty calm considering.
“That would depend on which version you prefer.” Scanning the room for exits, Carter was dismayed to find the staircase was it. He had to get out and away so that he could plan his next move. “There’s an old legend about werewolves. That killing the one who bit you will free you from the curse.”
Bending down, Adam Weis presented his back to him as he picked up the fallen cup. He stood up, tossing it into a trash can. “There’s a lot of so called legends. You’ve been watching too many B-rated movies. The agent in wolven saliva that causes the Change in bitten psychic males is almost viral in nature. It’s somewhat similar to the agent in vampire venom that turns one after death. It is biological and very permanent. Neither is a curse with a get-out-of-jail-free card attached.”
“I don’t know, I kind of like the movie version.” Cautiously, he followed the werewolf to the steps. Since it was the only way out, he figured, why the hell not?
“And I prefer Disney’s happily ever after. It cuts down on the nightmares considerably.” Weis led the way, his boots silent on the bare wood steps. Carter felt every uneven place on the wood against his bare feet. He’d met werewolves the world over, never had he taken the time to talk to one. Never had he felt what he did when Adam Weis’s voice hummed through him. “Not exactly realistic. But if you can sleep, it helps to deal with the rest that life throws at you.”
* * * *
“It’s totally you.” Karen tugged the edge of the snug vest that she’d talked India into trying on and leaned back against the unfinished wall of the small bathroom. With the sweet nature India had come to associate with the woman, she turned to Tamara who’d sat numbly on the edge of the tub throughout Karen’s impromptu ‘makeover’. “Well, Tam? What do you think? Chase is going to go completely gaga when he sees this.”
“I don’t know.” India peered at herself in the medicine cabinet over the sink, hardly recognizing the glowing features and bright eyes staring back at her. Golden brown swells teased from the top of the vest. The earthy smelling leather garment accentuated her normally unimpressive bust. “A t-shirt and a pair of jeans would have been fine. You should keep this for after…” she glanced at the pretty large belly taking up a considerable portion of the bathroom. “For later.” She finished with a lame smile. Tamara offered no comment from her perch. Her red-rimmed eyes and defeated slump were depressing to witness.
A snort of laughter escaped Karen. She slapped hand over her mouth, peeling it off a moment later to gesture at her very ripe body. “Look at me.” Her hands dropped and she shifted to sit on the toilet. “I don’t even know why I bought that outfit. I haven’t been that small since high school.” She rubbed a hand over the knot as the bulge miraculously moved. The expression on her face was one of contentment. “After four pregnancies, counting this one, things have shifted and stretched for good.” Karen leaned over to pat Tamara’s knee at the she-wolven’s mild look of disapproval. “One didn’t make it.” She explained, in a very accepting attitude that was out of India’s experience. Packs stayed small due to the small number of live births that occurred. The largest groups were the most established. None of the couples in her old pack breathed a word of the new addition until late in the pregnancy. To speak of the failed pregnancies was to invite trouble in the future. Then again, the Anderson County Pack had a high number of bitten and psychic members. The human element might have something to do with the difference of mindset.
Speaking of ... “How is Bailey?” India asked Tamara, finally rousing the female from her funk. No one had mentioned how the female had fared and both Bailey’s mate and the warden Bradley had left in a flash of bright light after leaving the basement. She hadn’t felt the loss of another packmember in the packbond. At this stage of her membership, she had not yet developed the ability to read the subtle nuances in the threads that bound them all together. That came with long-term association.
Tamara stirred, her fair features reddened with embarrassment. “Once we got into the van, I realized that she couldn’t go to the hospital. Bailey’s human but she’s had wolven blood before and you said she was…” She glanced at Karen, sitting there so serene rubbing her belly and stumbled over the next part of her story. “P-p—well you know.” She looked down before mumbling her answer. See
med not everyone was blasé about wolven pregnancies. “I called Morgan. No one else was answering and they’re supposed to be our allies.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “He came and took us with him to the fairy’s…” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Base, home, whatever. Bradley was there and did his teleport thing with Chase. It all happened very fast. Everybody else met at Brandon and Karen’s little cabin.” Karen nodded, affirming the events Tamara relayed. A flash of anger made the she-wolven’s eyes glow red and her voice drop into a near growl. “Then, ya’ll brought him here. You saw how Bradley’s been popping everyone back and forth.” Sighing, Tamara wound down. Her energy sucked her into distracted worry. “It can’t be good on his injuries.”
India and Karen watched Tamara wrap her arms around herself, feeling helpless at her funk. Guilt mingled with the grief that every one else seemed to be managing fairly well. Her blue eyes welled with tears again. “This is all my fault.” She looked to Karen for guidance. “Why don’t they punish me for bringing this on us?”
Feeling uncomfortable, India sat on the edge beside her, daring to place an arm around Tamara’s shoulders. It hurt seeing the usually bright female so down. “Because it’s not your fault.” She nudged Tamara’s shoulder with her cheek. “It’s more my fault than yours. I brought the Hunter with me. If anyone should be punished, it’s me.”
That brought Tamara’s spirit to the surface. She clutched India’s hand. “Oh, no. Don’t blame yourself for that. You were only trying to find a safe place. We understand that.”
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